Why was he so weak ... and would this pass?
What of his abilities and powers honed over a thousand years, now that he was once more housed in living flesh? He had wanted this in ways beyond imagining but had never considered the costs until now.
Advantages began returning in his thoughts.
He was now the duke of Beáumie, lord of everyone and everything for the leagues of this remote province. That sliver of authority and earthly power was nothing compared to what he had once wielded in a long-lost life as Beloved’s high priest. Given time, he would build upon this, but his first task was to secure his new identity. That included removing all evidence that he was not who he appeared to be.
The orb had to be taken somewhere beyond the reach of Wynn Hygeorht and any who might believe her claims. And then this body had to be made truly immortal beyond the false promise by which he had seduced the young duke.
Looking down, he saw Karl’s slender form dressed all in black felts, wools, and leathers. The first wave of pure joy overtook him, but the flesh itself had been neglected. He was unwashed, and his clothing smelled as if it had not been changed, let alone laundered, in many days. He needed a bath, sandalwood soap for his hair, and of course fine clothes, but such things could wait a little longer. Sau’ilahk went to the pedestal—still troubled by a weakened and damaged body—and checked on the orb.
The spike had fallen into place and become one with the orb again, and the key—the handle—lay on the floor near one pedestal leg. He had to brace himself on the pedestal while leaning down to retrieve the key, and the other hand—the deformed one inside the stretched glove—was clumsy in its grip.
He shuffled to the door and called out, “Open!”
The sound and ease of a true voice were startling to him.
After the scrape of a key and the clack of a lock, the door opened, and all seven of his remaining Suman guards were waiting outside as instructed. Their rapid, hushed chatter barely abated, and Captain Hazh’thüm stood farthest away, toward the passage to the stairs.
Not one of them dropped their eyes. They stared at him.
The one who opened the door bowed his head slightly. “My duke, do you wish an escort to your room?”
Growing furious, Sau’ilahk glared at the man. Then he calmed in a fit of amusement.
“You do not recognize me ... do you?”
The guard frowned, blinked twice in confusion, and glanced back at his captain.
Stepping closer, Hazh’thüm pushed through the others as he, too, frowned.
“You are ... Duke Beáumie,” the nearest guard said hesitantly. “Are you unwell, my lord?”
Sau’ilahk could not help but smile. Then he searched his own thoughts, his own memories, just in case. No, nothing lingered of Karl Beáumie in this flesh. That might be a difficulty, not knowing all about the past of the duke for a proper masquerade. Yet now he faced a different problem.
How much would it take to prove who he truly was to these base underlings?
How much of his former nature still remained, now that he had taken flesh?
Both the closest guard and Hazh’thüm peered beyond Sau’ilahk through the door. Perhaps looking for a tall, black-robed and cloaked form, their gazes roamed the orb’s chamber.
“Sire, you should rest,” Hazh’thüm suggested. “Let me take you to your room.”
The others appeared relieved by him taking charge.
Sau’ilahk had no time or desire to reason with them. There was a quicker way to test something he needed to know. He lashed out with his left, good hand and snatched the nearest guard by the throat.
At the sight of him attacking one of their own, the others all pulled their swords.
Even Hazh’thüm lunged at him—and stalled in the last instant. His eyes widened as his mouth gaped.
The one guard barely had a moment to struggle and claw at Sau’ilahk’s grip.
Satisfaction followed by relief flushed Sau’ilahk as his captive’s hair began to bleach and his face withered with rushing age. All of the guards froze where they stood as they watched their comrade’s life being drained away.
That life filled up Sau’ilahk. The pain in his new body lessened, and he straightened to full height as he released his grip. The guard crumpled like an old man breathing his last, and Sau’ilahk succumbed to euphoria amid relief.
He could still feed.
What other remnants of his previous existence had carried though to this new one?
The dead guard hit the floor. All six remaining men stood frozen until Hazh’thüm stepped back and lowered his eyes.
“Now do you know me?” Sau’ilahk asked.
All six men dropped to one knee and bowed their heads low.
“When we are in public, under the eyes of the unknowing, you will serve me as the duke,” he commanded. “At all other times, you will show proper respect for who I am.”
“Yes, my lord ... Yes, Eminence,” Hazh’thüm whispered.
Sau’ilahk smiled. “Prepare the orb for transport. We leave this place tonight.”
Chane sagged in relief when Wynn’s eyes opened. He had told himself over and over that she had merely collapsed from exhaustion. When she struggled to sit up on the bed, he did not even interfere when Osha assisted her and then put a cup of water to her lips.
“Are you all right?” Chane asked.
After a swallow, she nodded weakly. “Still dizzy ... and ... what happened?”
Her braid had come partially loose, and her wispy brown hair was a mess around her oval face. Her olive-toned skin appeared slightly pallid, but he was further relieved by how coherent she sounded—almost herself.
“You fainted,” Nikolas said. “What were you doing?”
No one answered him, and Chane stepped to the door to listen for a moment. “It has been quiet out there for some time,” he whispered, and then looked to Wynn. “If I break the door, Osha, Shade, and I can rush the guards. One of us, at least, should break through to our weapons ... and your staff. Can you run yet?”
“Wait,” Osha said. “She need more time.”
Wynn waved him back and swung her legs off the bed. “I can walk,” she said, struggling to her feet. “I’ll get better soon enough.”
Chane nodded. He would have preferred to give her more time as well, but if there was an orb in this keep, they had been locked in here too long. He knew she would not want to wait.
“I will break through,” he whispered to Osha. “Once I have drawn the guards’ fire, and they have no chance to reload, you and Shade must rush for the other room.” He looked to Shade. “Agreed?”
Shade huffed once as she dropped off the bed to step around Wynn and closer to the door. Osha slipped his hand behind his back, and it came out again with the dagger.
“Nikolas, come here near me,” Wynn said, but he didn’t move.
“Where exactly are we going once we get out?” Nikolas asked. “Karl controls all the guards, not just the Sumans. Even if you get this artifact out of the lower levels, the front gates are locked down.”
Chane had thought of this, though there was little to be done about it. If they could breach the lower levels, find the orb, and dispatch the Suman guards, perhaps they could break out through the door at the back passage’s end. That might at least gain them something ... and again perhaps most of the guards would be drawn into the keep in a search.
“First we retake our weapons, then the orb, and all else ... we will deal with as needed.” He glanced at Osha. “Ready?”
The elf nodded once, and Chane grabbed the door’s handle. He let his hunger rise, expanding his senses, and he prepared to rip the handle and, he hoped, the lock bolt out so he could pull the door open.